Misunderstood and Alright
by In Love With Narcolepsy Boy
Summary: The way he always asks if i'm sure about this, everytime we do something, even though he knows I am. The way he screams my name. The way it feels when he's inside me. Weird, AU, Oneshot. [FinnRory] written out of anger and late at night, beware.


Authors Note- Okay, so, I was totally pissed off today, and I let all my anger out on this idea. At first, I was real angry, so that's why the beginning is so rough, and you'll notice it getting better (even though the whole thing is shaky) but it definately made me feel better. Keep in mind it's past midnight, and I could care less if this thing isn't proof-read or corrected. So I may make corrections someday. But for now you'll live with what I'm giving you.

Note: Only rated 'M' for language and semi-mature themes.

Note 2: I'm extremely tired, so if this came out totally not making sense, I'm sorry. :)

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My name is Rory Gilmore, and I am 17 years old.

I come from a wealthy family. We're high in society and I like it that way. I am admired by many, loved by few. I am used to getting what I want. If I don't get what I want, I get really upset. It has to be my way. That's just how it goes.

I do a lot for the community. I raise money for the homeless, and lead fundraisers. If anyone asked, I do it because it makes me feel good. I'll let you in on a secret: it just makes me _look_ good. I see it as either way, the work is getting done.

I am in the top of my class at Chilton. I'm smarter than anybody in that school. And yes, I do brag about it. I work my ass off, I deserve to let people know.

I have friends. They practically worship me, as they should. I am, afterall, the best.

I'm competitive, stubborn, and most of the time, a bitch. It was how I was raised. Be on top, and if you aren't, _get_ on top, and if you have to be mean doing it, then let it be.

I'm 5'7 and have brown hair. I'm skinny, and have just about the perfect body. The guys love it.

You can say I'm a slut. I sleep with a couple guys a week, to get a good lay. It's basically a rule. If you're rich and snobby, you're a whore. I tend to follow the stereotypes.

I've been with about every guy I've ever laid my eyes on. It's part of my charm. I reel them in. If the dumbass guy doesn't come up to me after about 15 seconds, I'll go up to them. We'll be in bed (or any other suitable place to fuck each other) by the end of the night. I like having that power.

From what I've said so far, you probably think of me as the most self-absorbed bitch you've ever heard of. And I guess I have no control over what you think.

Few people know that most of it is all a cover. It's a nice cover, I think. It's fun to be mean and degrading. If you're going to be fake, at least have fun with it.

Deep down, I'm really a 5 year old girl at heart, swinging on the playground's swings, watching life pass me by. I say things like 'please' and 'thank you' when people aren't watching, and I do things like read the bible and pray to God. I laugh with my younger siblings and have movie nights with my mother. I'm actually a good person, in the inside.

On the outside I'm misunderstood. But that's okay, I kind of like the other side of me. It's daring and adventurous. I have the time of my life most of the time, despite what people may think. If I could change anything, it would be the looks I receive and the whispers that come out of people's mouths when I walk by. I always kind of felt like that was the worst thing: facing people who are right in front of you. They can think what they want when I'm not around, but to actually look at them hating me, is too much. If people got to know me like he did, I'd be a saint.

You probably don't know who the 'he' is. The 'he' is Finn Morgan. Finn is.. indescribable. He's not my boyfriend, but more like best friend. No one sees him and I as more than people who fuck each other on a regular basis. Although that may be true, it's so much more than that.

Yeah, we may fool around.. but, that's because it feels _right_ to fool around. I know I've been with other guys, (and really still am continuing that run) but he's.. different. And he knows that. He makes me _feel_ things. The way he always asks if i'm "sure" about this, everytime we do something, even though he knows I am. The way he screams my name. The way it feels when he's inside me. I know i'm young and my hormones are going wild, and it'll probably feel amazing with any good looking guy, but it's the way he treats me outside of the sex that makes it so different.

He knows me. I've been his friend since we were in diapers. He also has high social status, and it's only natural that we were forced together when we were young. We grew up together. We know each other's secrets. He knows that I steal vodka from the downstairs kitchen and sneak it up to my room on a bad day, and I know that he keeps a hidden stash of cigarettes and alcohol in his bottom drawer under his pile of clothes.

We've also been there for each other whenever we needed the other. I was there for him when he had to go through the tragic loss of his older sister, and he was there for me when the scandal broke out of my father messing around with his secretary; which tore my family apart.

His parents are my parents. Although I have my mom, his parents are more.. like parents. His parents are happily married, with hardly any problems. His mom still packs his lunch everyday, and his father taught him how to pass a football. It's like they're a normal middle class family, if you put aside the money and the status. They invite me over for dinner and they take me on vacation and I am just so thankful I have them. My dad wasn't exactly the nicest dad growing up; and I love my mom more than anything, but together, they didn't create a stable environment for me. I ran to the Morgans a lot in my life.

Finn sees past the heartless bitch I am on the outside, and looks inside of me, to the real me. I wish more people were like that. But I have him and that's better than no one.

My first word was 'Finny', much to his dismay now; he hates the name. (Even though I know deep inside him he loves when I say it.) I took my first steps with him. I walked into my first day of kindergarten, hand-in-hand with him, as it had gotten to be every year. I watched him grow from a toddler, to an 8-year-old troublemaker, to an awkward 12 year old boy, to the sexy boy he is today. You name an important event in my life and I bet he was involved in some way. He is my body and soul, my best friend.

You'd think that he would be upset that I fool around with other guys, but he isn't. He knows that I don't mean anything with them. He knows because I've told him that they mean nothing. And he _believes_ me. He _trusts_ me. He doesn't like sharing, but he deals.

Sometimes I wish that I wasn't with all the guys I'm with. Sometimes I wish it was just him. Sometimes I wish that he was the only one. But that would raise eyebrows and people would point fingers, and we can't have that. Maybe someday though.

He was my first everything. First time, especially. I can remember every touch that was shared that night. It was both of our first times, so it was special. Not like everytime isn't special, but there was just something about it. We were young and unsure but at the same time _so sure._

I'm not sure if he was my first love. Because I don't think I love him yet. I have high standards. Or maybe I'm just scared of love. Maybe I do love him and I'm afraid to admit it. I can never be so sure.

But there is one thing I do know.

It was last Tuesday. I'd say we were making love, because that's what many would call it when you actually give a shit about who you're fooling around with. But remember, i'm not sure yet. So I'll say we were fucking. Anyways, we were 'fucking each other' and it was nearing the end. When we were done, he layed his head on my bare shoulder, both of us breathing heavily. He placed a soft kiss on my neck and muttered three words. He _muttered_ them. I couldn't exactly make it out, but I knew what he said.

So the one thing I do know, is that he loves me. He gives me his whole self, and _loves_ me. Maybe that's how I should determine if I love someone. If they completely and truly look past everything and _love you._

So maybe I do love him. He hasn't done anything to make me not. But we're young, and people can be deceiving. So I won't know for a while.

But thinking it now is enough.

-FIN-

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-I know there were mixed emotions and after re-reading I'm not completely satisfied. But it helped me deal with what I'm dealing with, so it's good enough. Review. 


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